


merry christmas, huckleberry finn

by faithfulhope



Category: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms, Tom and Huck (1995)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulhope/pseuds/faithfulhope
Summary: Huck Finn figures that the overwhelming amount of cold nights spent alone are finally catching up to him—until someone surprises him.
Relationships: Huckleberry Finn & Tom Sawyer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	merry christmas, huckleberry finn

It gets mighty cold during the winter months of St. Petersburg.

Huck shivers with his back to a tree, tugging his ragged clothes closer to his body in hopes of concealing what little warmth his body is radiating. His fingers are stiff against the thin, torn jacket he's thrown on top of his other two shirts, but he can't afford to pay for gloves and the only loose fabrics he's found are wrapped around his shoeless feet. He cares much more about having the ability to go from place to place than stealing, he decided; after all, what good does stealing do for you if you can't run away? They're nothing compared to leather shoes he knows the other boys wear, but he makes do. He has no other choice. 

Jealousy of the town's children heats the blood in his veins, and he welcomes the feeling like an old friend. After all, the anger and resentment he hides behind a careless facade is what keeps him warm at night.

He thinks about the boys that idolize him and his reckless ways, and a puff of bitter laughter escapes his lungs in a visible cloud. Icy air invades his body now, caressing him with a freezing touch, and he instantly regrets the moment of mirth as he struggles to recover his heat.

If only they could see him now, peeking at him behind their windows as they sit next to a cozy fireplace among their families. He doubts they're thinking enviously about the carefree renegade succumbing to the merciless weather with tears and snot freezing in tracks against his blue skin. No, they'll be too occupied with their new toys and treats to remember their dreams of joining his side on a pathless journey, and when they finally grow bored of their daily routine once more, they'll remember and come across his frozen body too late. 

No, he doubts anyone is thinking about Huckleberry Finn tonight.

As the time passes agonizingly slow and the night only seems to get colder, Huck becomes so sure that his fate is sealed and gives up on his anger. The steaming resentment he holds for his friends, his father, and humanity overall disappears, replaced by a depressing chill. It festers within the cavity of his chest, spreading to every nerve ending, and numbness starts to take away what's left of his physical being. 

He nearly accepts that he'll die on this unforgiving December night, so it surprises him when he hears a faint, "Huck!" in the back of his mind.

His head lolls to the side, blurry eyes rolling around with no particular target in front of him, until he starts to comprehend a basic human shape growing closer. At first, he's convinced that he's hallucinating, as the voice seems to belong to one of the only friends he's ever had—and there's no way Tom Sawyer could've snuck out without notice on such a frigid night.

Then, there's a snapping sound directly in front of his shaky vision, and the voice tries again, "Hucky, Huckleberry!" The figure starts to materialize, forcing him to focus, and Huck instantly recognizes the curly hair and shimmering eyes as the person kneels down to his eye level.

He doesn't know how to feel at first. There's a mixture of relief, sadness, concern, anger... And then, Huck remembers that he's mere moments away from meeting his maker, and figures this must be a demon coming to take his soul in the comforting form of a loved one. The unfairness of the situation makes him whimper pitifully, and he wishes he could cry to God to forgive him and beg for a second chance. He finally finds his voice, but only manages a broken, "Now, that's just plain _cruel._ " 

A confused noise erupts from the creature across from him. "What'cha mean, Huck?" the possible-demon asks. Then, he shakes his head, and holds out a hand. "Nevermind it, come with me."

Huck can't avoid it. "I'm too young to die," he tries weakly, yet he reaches out and grabs the hand anyways. The touch feels burning hot against his frozen fingers, and he's certain he's getting a taste of the hellfire that will soon greet him.

"Dyin'? Who said anything about dyin'?" Tom helps him to his feet, and when Huck is upright and forced into alertness, he looks down into those gleaming eyes that he's familiarized himself with and feels that maybe he's not such a goner after all. _Thank the Heavens above,_ he praises internally as Tom grins up at him, and with that finalized, they're off.

"Where are we goin', then?" Huck whispers, rubbing his hands together and huffing breaths into the cupped palms. He feels a bit of jealousy sting him when eyeing Tom's warm coat and clean shoes, but he doesn't acknowledge it now, not wanting to ruin whatever adventures his friend has planned.

"To my Aunt Polly's, where else?" Tom whispers back, the tone of his voice suggesting that it was obvious. The light of the town's streetlamps begin to glow softly as they draw near.

That confuses Huck, and so he questions, "Did you leave somethin' behind before you left?" Tom is a boy who is often well-prepared and takes their adventures seriously, thus making the likelihood of him forgetting something very low.

"No."

Of course, now Huck is suspicious, slowing down as they grow only steps away from the main street and its buildings. He would rather not go back to his lonely tree in the woods, but he doesn't understand why else they'd be going to Tom's house. "Why are we goin' then?" he dares to ask, cautiously trailing behind him up the path. Did Tom hit his head on a table and forget that he, Huckleberry Finn, is not welcome to enter any house within five miles of St. Petersburg? He'd have better luck convincing a family of squirrels to let him nest with them.

"That's a surprise." 

The vague response makes him pause entirely, and a wave of distrust slams into him. He's never been invited to stay at Tom's house, as they both knew what his Aunt Polly would do if she were to catch such a godless heathen sleeping in her house. He's curious, is it safe for him? Should he run for the hills?

He's so high strung that he doesn't even realize he's moving again until he feels Tom's hand against his own, pulling him towards the house. "Jeez, you're shakin’ like a leaf," Tom comments, voice shifting to one of concern. "C'mon, let's get you inside. Don't you try runnin’ off, Hucky!"

Any protest he had on the tip of his tongue dies down, and he allows Tom to lead him past the whitewashed fence to the side of the house.

Huck begins to think that he's gonna finally be captured and sent to jail, but quickly affirms in his mind that it won't be so bad as long as he's given food and a clean place to sleep. He wishes he were more energetic to pretend to put up a fight, but he can't resist the tempting allure that promises warmth and a meal. He accepts his fate for a second time, then climbs through the window.

Instead of being greeted by a group of scowling adults and pompous children, he's met with a normal room, devoid of any presence but their own. He's confused, as he figured they'd be caught the second they walked onto the property, but there's nothing. The only sound is the freezing wind whistling outside the open window, which is quickly silenced as Tom hurries to shut it. 

"Sid fell asleep downstairs," Tom snickers softly, walking over to his bed. "He was too excited to be bothered to come to bed, so tonight I got the room to myself!" He then leans over the side and begins to dig around for something. Huck doesn't bother asking what Sid was excited about as he takes in his new surroundings.

He hasn't been here for quite some time, but of course, only minor things have changed. The ceiling is still tall above the two, and the paint that was once fresh is now only slightly chipped and worn. The beds haven't moved a bit, and the only thing that appears different on them is that Tom's blanket has been replaced by one large enough to accommodate his growing frame. 

He recalls the sleepovers they used to have with a sense of melancholy. He misses those days.

"Aha!" the younger of the two exclaims softly, reeling backwards with something in his hand. "Found it!" 

Huck draws closer in the excitement, feeling his nerves melt away as he grows accustomed to the warm house and the lack of adult presence. He figures Tom must've found something that surely couldn't have waited until morning, but before he can even dream of what it could be, the boy thrusts it out in his direction.

It's a simple wooden box. It's medium-sized, and when Huck curiously takes it out of his hands, he's surprised by the weight inside. "What's in it?" he questions, shaking it ever-so slightly. There's no way it's an animal, he would've heard a noise by now or it would've started moving in his hands. He does hear something inside, though, but he can't guess by simply tossing the thing around in its confines. 

"Open it up," Tom insists, looking impatient but ecstatic. His eyes dart between Huck and the box, as if it holds all the secrets in the world, and soon Huck grows impatient with himself as well. He flips open the top and stares inside, gauging what Tom has deemed so important.

Then, again, he's puzzled.

He can only tell what's inside by the glow of the moon shining through the window, but it's all vague. He feels around and his hands touch something soft, something hard, and something made of string and leather. He sets the box down on a nearby desk, and begins to pull the items out. 

The first thing that comes out is a piece of chocolate, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to not greedily gobble down the delicious morsel at once. Instead, he gingerly sets it down and reveals the next item, which is a green marble that shows its vivid colors in the soft light. He casts a strange look in Tom's direction, wondering what this is all about, before moving onto the final item.

He feels around until he realizes that it covers a vast majority of the box, and tugs at it by a corner. He drags it out until it's dangling before his very eyes, and it's all Huck can do to keep from shouting his surprise.

"Is this for _me?_ " he gasps, feeling his hands along the shoes as if they aren't real.

Tom's grinning from ear to ear, and he nods earnestly. "You've been an awfully good friend to me, Huckleberry," Tom says in a serious tone, scanning the items he's gathered together for him. "I know they're not the most exciting gifts, but..."

" _Why?_ " Huck suddenly demands, dropping the shoe back in the box and whirling to face his friend. "Why, Tom?" Nobody has ever done anything nice for him unless they were hoping to gain something in return, but he doesn't know what Tom would possibly get out of this, and that terrifies him. He doesn't want to feel indebted to him or anyone else, and he'll be damned if Tom Sawyer thinks he can get away with such a thing.

His friend looks caught off guard, but he's quick to respond, "You shouldn't be giftless on Christmas. Ain't right, not at all."

The information stuns him, and it takes a moment to register. He knew the holiday was drawing closer, but he didn't know it was right around the corner. _It's Christmas Day?_

Tom looks uneasy and apologetic now, moving to take away his presents. "I ain't mean anything bad, believe me, Huck," he says, reaching out to grab the box. "I just figured you'd be cold, and needing a place to stay during Christmas, and I thought some presents would—"

Huck stops him, grabbing his outstretched arm and yanking him to his chest. "Why, Tom," Huck begins, feeling choked up as he hugs his best friend tight. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him, and when he wants to shout his gratefulness from the rooftops, he finds himself lacking the words to do so. He huffs a soft curse into his curly hair, then mutters, "I ain't even get you anything... Why'd you have to go and put this together for me, huh?"

Tom breathes out, relieved, then relaxes into the embrace with a muffled laugh. "You're welcome, Hucky. Do you wanna go to bed, now? I'm real tired."

"I can't sleep! I gotta go back out and fetch you somethin' just as good." Huck pulls away, about to leap out the window and steal a present at random from the closest house, but Tom stops him with a quiet plea in his charming gaze. He wants to fight against it and prove he can be a great friend as well, but Tom's will and his overpowering need for sleep quickly make the decision for him and lead him to falling against the mattress.

Tom follows behind, curling up against his side. Huck can feel his cheeky grin against his shoulder.

This sure as hell beats sleeping against the stiff wood of a tree, and for once, he doesn't feel any envy or hatred for the town and the families residing within it. Although they might have some explaining to do if they don't wake up before Sid, Mary, or Aunt Polly, he thinks it'll be worth the trouble to have one good memory of the holidays. 

He makes a mental note to thank Tom in the morning once more, then a second one to find him an even better set of gifts, and finally, he allows exhaustion to lull him to a comforting sleep alongside his best friend.


End file.
